


The Mist isn't quite gone yet

by haematicMagic



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Late Night Writing, Lonely Avatar Martin Blackwood, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oneshot, Post-Season/Series 04, Random & Short, Sad, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23612149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haematicMagic/pseuds/haematicMagic
Summary: Jon and Martin have been in the Cabin ever since all of this started. Jon isn't well, of course, but even Martin still struggles with what they left behind in London.Ver short 3AM-drabble that i simply forced out to kill my writers block because S5 just be like that.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	The Mist isn't quite gone yet

**Author's Note:**

> For my penpal.

It was early, the kind of early in the morning where everything gets cold and a bit damp and the world is blue and grey as if warmth and colour were a fever dream – that’s how this morning would have been, if the light shining through the gap in the curtain wouldn’t have been in all imaginable colours.   
Jon was standing in the small kitchen, trying to get some feeling back into his face by splashing it with cold water. Out there was hell. In here was only silence.  
Or perhaps not silence but the closest they could get to the obscurity of the outside.

There was so much of it, now, so much knowledge, cursed and twisted, some things hurtful, some things simply random.   
The door had been opened and he might as well have died right then and there. 

But he hadn’t and he wasn’t. He was alive and so was Martin. And that seemed to be the most of their hopes at the moment. He looked up again at the man next to him, curled up and almost lifeless in the twilight.   
Jon opened the door as quietly as possible, so as not eliminate the possibility to startle Martin as he entered. They hadn’t spoken for a while now, taking turns with who’d be in a room with the bed, the warmth and the tapes and who’d sit in the kitchen, guarding the front door and staring into the echo of colours. 

Of course, none of them really slept, so when Jon carefully entered the room, so as not to startle Martin, he was surprised, no, alarmed, actually, to find him curled up in a ball on the bed.  
Immediately, he rushed over, gently tugging at Martins shoulder, trying to get him to turn over.

“Martin?”

“Leave me alone, Jon”

The other muttered, his voice sounding distant damp. His shoulder was ice cold.

An eerie feeling surged up in Jon, a bad memory of a place filled with mist and isolation. He tugged a little harder, getting Martin to roll over. He looked horrible.  
His eyes were almost white, half closed and there was white mist pouring out of the edges of his clothes and hair, like thin spiderwebs. He looked up at Jon, but couldn’t seem to focus on him and even for Jon, it took all his energy to remind himself that Martin was there and to keep his hands on him.

“Martin, whats-“

He broke off. It was very clear what exactly was with Martin. Immediately, information flashed through his inner eye – it did make sense, in a way. Why Martin had seemed so much more stable. Not stable – numb. And Jon had simply taken it for granted, wallowed in his own self pity.   
“This is what you get for depending on people, Jon”, a familiar voice echoed in his head.  
But all that didn’t matter now. Jon tried to focus, pulling Martin over to the head board of the bed and making him sit up – much to his protest.

“Jon, stop, just leave me be.”

He murmured; his voice distant.

“Martin – look at me.”

Jon said, trying to remain calm as he knelt on the bed in front of the other man and took his head in between his hands, thereby forcing him to look at him.

“Jon, just stop. I need to be alone.”

“No, No, Martin, look at me.”

Hesitantly, Martin looked up at him, still having a hard time focusing on Jon. Jon found himself a bit more fearful than he had hoped, but he shoved his heart back down his throat and steadied his voice:

“Stay here, alright? I see you, I’m here. I see you, Martin.”

The other gave a slight chuckle, which echoed out into the silence of the room. At first, the Archivist was inclined to join in the smile, but Martins expression quickly spoiled his relief.

“That’s not going to work every time.”

“It doesn’t need to – I’ll still be here, even if what I say gets old. I’m not going to leave you again.”

He responded, taking a deep breath, his hands still cupping Martins cheeks. For a while, they were both silent, the promise hanging between them like the thin mist still drifting off them. A meek movement from Martin, seemingly trying to raise his arms, quickly led Jon to pull him into a tight hug, apparently the right call. He felt some semblance of warmth return into the shoulders he had wrapped his arms around.

“I- I’m just so tired, Jon.”

“I get that. I do.”

“I didn’t want to- go back to that, you know? But I couldn’t hear you in the kitchen and I just wanted to-“

“I know.”

For a long time, they stayed like that, at one point sliding down into a half lying position, simply holding onto each other, a silent “I am here and you are too.” until the last fog, the last cold and the last sense of panic had subsided. There was the howling of the wind outside and the howling of other things, but in that moment all that could not have mattered less. Martin was the first to speak up again.

“I think we should go soon.”

He said, gently freeing himself from the hug and looking at Jon, the blue of his eyes once again clear.

“Leave this place. It can’t be good.”

He said, his choked up voice firming with every word as the idea solidified. Jon didn’t answer, simply looking back through the loose strands of white hair falling into his face.

“Jon?”

Martin asked again, only his name being able to tear Jon from his stare into Martins eyes.

“I- Yeah. You’re right.”

Martin nodded, satisfied, and gently placed his forehead against Jon’s chest.

“We’ll make it, Martin.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”


End file.
